


Losing Leona

by alynwa



Series: Sugar and Spies Tales [29]
Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya's and Napoleon's worst nightmare is coming true. The boys along with Mr. Waverly belong to whomever they belong to while Yertle belongs to Dr. Seuss. All orginal characters are mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing Leona

Mr. Waverly was sitting in his office at the round conference table. Opposite him sat his Chief Enforcement Agent, Napoleon Solo. It was 6:30 in the evening and they had just spent the last two hours reviewing status reports from teams currently out on missions and deciding what teams should be sent out on new missions based on the intelligence reports that UNCLE had received in the past few days. The task had taken its toll on both men; they were tired and both were ready to go home. He held a lighter to his pipe and puffed until it was lit. When he had it lit to his satisfaction, he looked at the younger man and said, "Well, Mr. Solo, it seems as if we have done as much as we can this evening. Go home and relax; you've earned it. When you come to work tomorrow, bring Miss Leona Nicole with you."

Napoleon had been gathering his papers to place in his briefcase while Mr. Waverly started speaking. He froze when he heard the last thing his superior said. _I must have misheard him,_ he thought. "I'm sorry, sir, what did you say?" he asked.

His superior looked at him, raised his bushy barely – controlled eyebrows and retorted, "I did not stutter, Mr. Solo."

Napoleon forced himself to remain calm by taking a deep breath. "Ah, Mr. Waverly, Leona has school tomorrow. May I ask why you want me to bring her to you? And, is Illya aware of this? He is her father of record." Though he considered himself an equal parent to Leona, as did Illya, his name was not on the birth certificate; he was actually her guardian if he survived the field and his partner did not.

"Mr. Solo, I am not in the habit of explaining myself to my subordinates and I don't intend to start now. Mr. Kuryakin was informed earlier today when I met with him that you would be bringing her with you tomorrow. Why I wish to see Miss Reilly is not your concern; the fact that I want to see her _is._ I am well aware that she has school; most five year olds do. Good evening, Mr. Solo," Mr. Waverly said in a tone that made it quite clear that Mr. Solo was dismissed. He turned around and picked up his phone and began to dial.

Shoulders slumping, Napoleon muttered, "Good night, Sir," and walked through the sliding door. He was so preoccupied thinking about Mr. Waverly's order that he failed to notice Miss Rogers smiling, something he had never done before. Her smile faded and the goodbye she was about to voice stuck in her throat. She watched him exit her office and enter the hallway. When the door slid shut behind him, she entertained briefly the idea of asking Mr. Waverly what had happened, but something, perhaps her sense of self – preservation, warned her that even her favor and influence would not hold sway with The Old Man on this issue, whatever it was. Instead, she just stepped into his office to ask if he needed anything else before she headed for home.

"Yes, Miss Rogers," he had answered, "I plan to go out for lunch tomorrow so I'll need you to make the reservation for me. Here is the phone number of the restaurant I want to go to, the number of people in my party and the time I would like the reservation to be. Thank you, Miss Rogers. Good evening."

She looked at the paper she had been handed and smiled. "Yes, sir. I'll take care of it right now."

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Napoleon walked into his apartment, locked the door and reset the alarm system. After taking off his coat and hanging it on the rack, he pulled his tie from around his neck and walked into the main apartment expecting to see Illya and Leona in the living room. When he realized they weren't there, he continued on into his bedroom to change into sweatpants and a long – sleeved T – shirt.

As he walked toward the kitchen, he heard Leona's and Illya's voices outside the front door just before Illya's key slid into the lock. Leona stepped through first, saw Napoleon and ran to hug him. "Hi, Daddy! Papa said he wanted us to eat dinner together tonight so we went to get Chinese food. How are you?"

Napoleon hugged her tight. "I'm fine, now," he replied, "I've wanted to give you a hug all day." He glanced up at Illya's unsmiling face, kissed Leona on the temple and told her, "Go wash your hands and get ready for dinner." When she left the foyer, he asked Illya as they entered the kitchen, "What the hell is happening?"

The Russian placed the shopping bag on the counter and began pulling out containers while Napoleon set the table and poured glasses of milk for Leona and himself and water for Illya.

"I have no idea, Napoleon. The Old Man called me into his office around one o'clock and told me that he was having you bring Leona to see him tomorrow." He looked like he was about to breakdown. "I had a date with Melody tonight, but I cancelled. I gave Leona a snack to hold her until you came home. If this is her last night with us…"

Napoleon patted him on the shoulder and whispered, "Stay strong, Tovarisch, for her sake. Let's have a good evening with her and we'll talk after she goes to bed."

Illya nodded, "You are right." Leona came back into the kitchen and sat in her usual chair. Illya smiled at her with all the love he felt and said, "There is our little girl! I hope you alre hungry."

The two men used their considerable skills as master spies to act positive and upbeat throughout dinner even though both were emotionally off balance. Leona Nicole Hyun Reilly had no idea her parents' hearts were breaking. She knew only that her Daddy and her Papa were so very happy to be with her; to listen to her tell them how her day in kindergarten had been and how proud they were to listen to her read them the story of Yertle the Turtle. They let her stay up past her bedtime because, they said, they had missed her so much last week when they were gone. They ran her bath water and waited outside the bathroom door until she had called for Papa to wash her back and then both of them came in to help her. They both tucked her in and kissed her goodnight and told her how much they loved her. She fell asleep thinking she had the best Papa and Daddy anyone ever had.

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Illya and Napoleon watched her fall asleep and remained by her side until the blond motioned to his partner that they should leave. Upon exiting her room and closing the door Illya said, "I need vodka and lots of it," and went into the kitchen for the glasses and to remove the vodka from the freezer. Napoleon headed off to the living room bar. When he sat on the couch, Illya sat next to him and they both poured three fingers of liquid and downed it in one shot. They refilled their glasses and looked at each other.

Illya hunched forward and put his elbows on his thighs. Swirling his glass, he shook his head as if to clear it and spoke to the floor, "I have been wracking my brain ever since meeting with Mr. Waverly this afternoon and I have no idea what you or I or we have done or not done to deserve him taking Leona away. In the three years we have had her with us, we have only had one failed mission and that was two years ago! I have developed new technology in my lab that has improved our communication system and developed antidotes to THRUSH's last two truth serums. Have you been staying on top of your CEA paperwork?"

The brunet rubbed his face and nodded affirmatively. He replied, "I don't know, Illya, I just don't know why this is happening." He stood up and walked to Leona's door, but instead of going in, he motioned for his partner to follow him. The Russian picked up both bottles and together they walked to the living room in what was formerly the penthouse next door. Napoleon kept walking until he was at the window; Illya sat on the loveseat and poured himself another drink. Napoleon looked out over the cityscape quietly for almost a minute before he turned around. His face showed he was already grieving the loss of his child. "Illya, I thought you were crazy when you told me you wanted to keep Leona and, I guess I was a little crazy too since I decided to raise her with you. But, these past three years have been amazing; watching her grow and learn things; knowing that she depends on me, on _us,_ to keep her safe and give her love."

"Raising her has taught me a lot about myself, Tovarisch. I found out that I enjoy being a Daddy, I love talking to her, cooking for her, taking care of her. If Mr. Waverly is taking her, all bets are off that he'll allow the Greers to adopt her," he said sadly as he came to sit next to Illya. Tears threatened to fall as he said softly, "How is anyone going to know that she speaks so many languages? That she likes to try different foods and that she's a good eater? And, who's going to, who's going to tell her," he choked out as he brought his hands to his face, "that we didn't abandon her and that we love her…" Napoleon began to cry as he dropped his empty glass onto the carpeting. He leaned on Illya who pulled him to his shoulder and rubbed his back to comfort him.

"Napoleon, don't cry. Something you said is making me think this isn't what we think it is," Illya soothed. He squeezed Napoleon's shoulder and smiled. Truth be told, he had been two seconds away from breaking down himself before his partner got him thinking.

Napoleon wiped his eyes and got himself under control. "What, what did I say?"

"Mr. Waverly knows my history, Napoleon. The Old Man is a lot of things, but he _is not_ cruel. I think if he were really taking Leona away from us, he would say it. He would not leave us twisting in the wind the way we are now. He would not let a five – year old girl think her parents abandoned her, even if he did not care what _we_ thought. He knows I have lost many people and been abandoned several times in my life; I do not think he would make me repeat that history through my daughter. Something else is going on here."

Napoleon reached down and picked up his glass and refilled it. He checked his watch and showed his partner that it was almost eleven o'clock. "I'm going to bow to your logic, Illya, because I don't know what else to do. I hope you're right. How do you want to play this tomorrow?"

The Russian drained his glass and grabbed the vodka bottle in preparation for the trek back to the main apartment. Standing, he answered, "I already told Leona that she would be going to work with you instead of school and she would be spending time with Mr. Waverly. She does not remember him but, I told her she met him before and they had liked each other. She is such an outgoing child; I am not worried about her being shy around him. We will put a dress on her and bring a change of clothing just in case. We will go to work and act like we fully expect to bring her home when the day is done."

Napoleon nodded his head. "Agreed," he said, "Let's go check on her and pick out something for her to wear. Then, I'm going to bed; I'm exhausted."

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

The next morning, they allowed Leona to sleep until seven since she had been awake past her usual bedtime. Illya had decided that he would go into work with Napoleon and Leona so that he could have as much time as possible with her. They put their partnership into motion and operated like a smooth machine so that all three were bathed, dressed and fed in record time. Illya had washed and blow – dried Leona's hair and while she sat in her chair, he parted it and began to cornrow her thick, wavy black hair the way Rosie had taught him. When he finished, she had a single, thick braid that reached almost to the small of her back.

Leona stood up and asked, "Papa, do I look pretty?"

Illya smiled and said, "I think so but, let me take a good look at you." He walked around her slowly and took in her brown Mary Jane shoes, white socks, yellow, brown and red plaid jumper with the white blouse underneath and declared, "Yes, Leona Nicole, you are indeed the prettiest girl in the house."

"I'm the _only_ girl!" she laughed and when Napoleon stepped back into the kitchen she asked, "Daddy, do you think I look pretty?"

Napoleon smiled at her and said, "Of course you do! Are you ready to go to work with us?" When she said yes, he helped her on with her coat and put her backpack on her. "Leona, there's a pair of jeans, a T – shirt and your sneakers in there if you need to change. OK?"

"OK, Daddy."

Napoleon reached for his coat. "I think we're ready to go, yes?" He glanced at Illya who was putting on his coat. "Let's go to work."

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Mr. Waverly answered his intercom, "Yes, Miss Rogers?"

"Sir, Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin and Miss Reilly are here."

"Excellent. Tell them to come in." He turned toward the door just as the two agents and the little girl entered his office. "Good morning, Gentlemen, Miss Reilly. Miss Reilly, did your parents tell you that you will be spending time with me today?"

"Yes. They gave me a change of clothes, too," she answered.

"Wonderful. You do look quite lovely. May I call you Leona?"

"Yes, sir. That's what my Papa and my Daddy call me. Sometimes, they call me Leona Nicole. You can call me that too, if you like."

Mr. Waverly grinned at the adult – sounding reply from the little girl. He looked at his agents and said, "Gentlemen, does Leona have any food allergies?"

Both men blinked and Illya answered first, "None that we are aware of, Mr. Waverly."

Mr. Waverly nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Kuryakin. That will be all, Gentlemen. I'm sure Leona and I will be fine. I will call you when I need you. Off with you both."

The two agents looked at each other over Leona's head, then took turns hugging her and saying goodbye and then turned and went out the door.

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Illya had given up trying to get anything accomplished in the labs. He went to the office he shared with Napoleon and found his partner staring off into space instead of working on his agent's annual performance evaluations. "You, too, huh," Napoleon said as he watched the blond come through the door and head to his desk.

Illya grunted in response and flopped into his chair. They had left Leona with The Old Man hours ago and had heard nothing since. They both almost jumped out of their skins when Napoleon's communicator started chirping.

"Solo here."

Mr. Waverly's distinctive voice came through, "Yes, is Mr. Kuryakin with you?"

They looked at each other uneasily as Illya leaned in to say, "Yes, sir, I am here."

"Excellent. You and Mr. Solo meet me at 225 E. 60th Street immediately. Inform the front that you are with the Waverly party. Waverly out."

They were throwing on their coats and moving toward the Reception Area almost before The Old Man stopped speaking. Illya asked, "Do you know what is at that address?"

Napoleon shook his head, "Not a clue." They handed their badges to the receptionist, went through Del Floria's and flagged down one of the UNCLE cabs that stay in the general area for agents' use. Napoleon gave the driver the address and sat tapping his foot impatiently until they turned onto 60th Street.

Illya looked at the name above the address Mr. Waverly had given them. "Napoleon," he asked, "what is Serendipity?"

They got out of the car and Napoleon said as they walked inside, "Ah, I believe it's a child – friendly restaurant." To the host at the front, he said, "Hello, we're with the Waverly party." They were led to a private room and when they stepped through the door, they stopped dead in their tracks of shock and confusion.

Mr. and Mrs. Waverly were seated at opposite ends of a long table. Leona was seated next to Mrs. Waverly and there were eight other children there; the oldest could not have been older than ten. Seated in the far corner were two shell – shocked looking Section Three agents eating cake and ice cream.

Leona saw them and jumped out of her chair to run to them. "Daddy! Papa!" she yelled happily as they each bent down to hug her.

"Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin! Welcome! Have a seat, "Mrs. Waverly said as she pointed at two empty chairs. She looked at the two agents in the corner and said, "Thomas, Jenkins, would you please take all the children to the playroom for an hour or so. Thank you so much." The two put – upon looking men smiled tightly, but put their cake down and led the children out of the room.

Once the children were gone and the door closed, Mrs. Waverly looked sharply at her husband and said, "Alexander, I believe you have something to say to these men?"

Mr. Waverly harrumphed and looked at his agents. "Gentlemen, every time my great – grandchildren and Leona would go to the Playroom with Agents Thomas and Jenkins, Mrs. Waverly would harangue me about how I have mistreated you. You see…"

Mrs. Waverly cut in, "Alexander, let me. I told him last week that the grandchildren were coming and I mentioned that I had heard of Leona Nicole but had never met her. He told me that he had not seen her since she was two and was curious about how she was faring. Well, when I saw her today, I just assumed my husband had asked you if she could come to lunch. When he told me he had ordered you to bring her in with no explanation…Suffice it to say, I was appalled. I reminded him that you are not just his agents, you are _parents_ now and when it comes to Leona, he must treat you like her parents, _not_ his agents."

Mr. Waverly cleared his throat and added, "I do apologize, Gentlemen. My wife explained the error of my ways to me in quite a… _descriptive_ manner. In my own defense, I will say I am used to dealing with you as operatives who take orders and follow them; nothing more."

"After spending time alone with Leona before heading here to meet Mrs. Waverly and the children, I must say that I am most impressed with her. She is well – adjusted and happy, very well – mannered and her French and Italian are excellent. I do not plan on making a habit of Leona visiting the office, but if in future Mrs. Waverly wants her to come visit when our great – grandchildren are in town, I will _ask_ you if she may. I hope I did not cause you consternation."

Illya was thinking that if he had not been sitting down, he would have fallen down. He never thought he would ever hear The Old Man offer an apology to anyone, let alone to Napoleon and himself.

Napoleon found his tongue first. "Ah, no sir, none at all." _He_ was thinking that he now knows who wears the pants in _that_ marriage. The thought made him smile broadly.

"Illya, Napoleon,"Mrs. Waverly drew their attention, "your daughter is a delight. It's obvious that she is comfortable in the company of adults, but she also fit in with the other children like she's known them all her life. We're having a family dinner this Sunday and would love it if you and Leona could join us."

After a quick glance and nod from the Russian, Napoleon responded, "We would be honored; thank you for asking us."

Just then, the door opened and the children came running back in, although stern looks from the four adults seated at the table brought everyone to an abrupt halt. They were followed by Agents Thomas and Jenkins, who looked like they had invaded a THRUSH satrap with slingshots and marbles. Illya felt quite sorry for them.

"Well all," Mr. Waverly announced, "this has been fun, but I need to return to the office. Mr. Kuryakin, Mr. Solo. I give you the option of taking the rest of the day and taking Leona home or allowing her to spend the rest of the afternoon with Mrs. Waverly and the children while you return to work. If you choose the latter, I will have a Section Three agent escort her home. What say you?"

"Leona, come to Papa," Illya called and when she did, he asked, "Are you having fun, my sweet?"

She smiled and answered, "Yes, Papa."

Napoleon pulled her to him and kissed her cheek. "Would you like to stay with Mrs. Waverly and the children? If you say yes, she will make sure you are driven home. Otherwise, you leave with us, now."

Leona looked from her Daddy to her Papa and back again. "I _am_ having fun. I want to stay with them!"

Mrs. Waverly said, "Excellent! Expect her home by 6:30? 6?"

Illya replied, "Six o'clock would be perfect. We'll see you later, Leona. Love you!" Leona waved as Illya and Napoleon followed Mr. Waverly out the door.

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

The two men sat at their desks in the UNCLE office they shared. It was five o'clock and they would be heading home shortly. The brunet leaned back to put his feet up on his desk and his hands behind his head. He sighed, "Partner Mine, I have been on the proverbial emotional roller coaster for so long, I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. I am furious with The Old Man for the way he acted, but I am absolutely stunned that he apologized for his behavior."

"I was absolutely stunned that Mr. Waverly thought Leona's Italian was excellent given your horrible accent," Illya drolly replied.

Napoleon cut his eyes at the Russian and said, "You're a regular laugh riot, Kuryakin. Too bad Ted Mack's Original Amateur Hour is cancelled." He looked up at the ceiling and said, "Thanks, Illya. You calmed me down. You knew Waverly wasn't taking her away; you figured it out. I was so distraught, I wasn't thinking logically."

Illya gave a little half – smile as he stood up and grabbed both their coats off the rack. Tossing Napoleon his, he replied, "That is why we are a good team: One steps up when the other one is in need. I will prove it. You and Leona spend time together this evening while I prepare dinner."

They walked toward the Reception Area to exit through Del Floria's. Napoleon suddenly turned around and placed his hand in Illya's chest to stop him. "Illya, I know you're making dinner but, you've got to do something for me. Promise?"

"Certainly, Napoleon. What is it?"

Napoleon leaned in and whispered, "Whatever you do, _please do not make a soufflé!"_


End file.
